


Not Another Fucking Pick Up Line

by gay_babies_in_space



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, M/M, clint barton is a power bottom, hella cheesy pick up lines galore, nat's had enough of their shit is2g, pietro has used google well, save a straw suck a dick, they're beautiful, top!pietro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:59:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_babies_in_space/pseuds/gay_babies_in_space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pietro Maximoff is twenty-two years old and a virgin. <br/>	A damn virgin. <br/>	He'd blame it on his life so far, or the fact that the only person he's ever felt close to is his sister, or the fact that he's too busy as an Avenger now. That wouldn't work though, because Wanda isn't a virgin anymore (trust him on this, she told him every single thing about her first time with Vision and it was a mentally scarring conversation that Pietro has no intention of reliving, thank you very much) and she's lived the exact same life as he has. <br/>	Except for the bit where she's gotten laid and he hasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Another Fucking Pick Up Line

                Pietro Maximoff is twenty-two years old and a virgin.

                A damn _virgin._

                He'd blame it on his life so far, or the fact that the only person he's ever felt close to is his _sister_ , or the fact that he's too busy as an Avenger now. That wouldn't work though, because Wanda isn't a virgin anymore (trust him on this, she told him _every single thing_ about her first time with Vision and it was a mentally scarring conversation that Pietro has no intention of reliving, thank you very much) and she's lived the exact same life as he has.

                Except for the bit where she's gotten laid and he hasn't.

                That bit is irritatingly different, and Pietro is _sick and tired_ of relying solely on his right hand for company. It's annoying and, really, kind of a knock to his pride. This is _America_ , the land of luxury and all that shit. He should be able to find someone to get off with _somewhere_ in this damn country, but it's just too tiresome to look.

                So, he decides to look closer to home. All of the SHIELD agents are a bit too serious and don't look at all fun, Vision is _definitely_ out because durh, he will not sleep with the robot that's banging his sister, _ew._ Stark is out of the picture because Pietro's not _quite_ gotten past the phase of wanting to be sick whenever Stark's name is mentioned. Steve, wonderful though he is, is definitely still hung up on some guy that was dead, but then apparently not dead, but had never really been dead in the first place, just a bit brain washed, and Pietro wants to stay _far, far away_ from that bundle of crazy. Sam is hung up on the oblivious Rhodey, Rhodey is hung up on the oblivious Sam, and Natasha is, as Clint described her, "a boss ass bitch who don't need no man." Doctor Banner is frankly a terrifying prospect, as is Thor. Pietro sometimes seriously considers writing a card to Jane to say "congratulations for not being pounded into a pulp", but Clint told him that it would be inappropriate, so he restrains himself.

                Talking of Clint...

                _Oh yes._

**\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

                He's a fucking little shit and Clint hates him.

                Except that he doesn't, because he can't help but be incredibly amused - and yes, slightly aroused, but that's beside the point - by Pietro's sudden change in behaviour. He's gone from being a goofy moron to being a goofy moron with the worst pick up lines and smoothest comebacks ever to exist on planet Earth.

                He'll walk into the kitchen in the morning and the damn kid will be leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, his bare chest out for all to see. And _damn_ , what a chest it is. If Clint had a body like that he'd be showing it off too, but at least he'd have the decency not to do it at seven o'clock in the morning when people haven't even had their first cup of coffee yet and therefore cannot be held accountable if they stare a little (a lot) at the unexpected display of flesh.

                And even now, as Clint swings and climbs over this god forsaken obstacle course that Tony had installed, there's a flash of blue as Pietro circles the training room, going faster and faster and making Clint feel like an old man. He can't help but keep an eye on the blur though, waiting for the sporadic times when Pietro has to stop and take a breather. His ( _bare_ ) chest heaves, sweating dripping over the muscles, and suddenly Clint doesn't feel so old anymore, because _those_ inappropriate thoughts could keep him going to several rounds. And he swear the kid's fucking with him because he always waits just long enough for Clint to unwillingly develop a semi before he winks (fucking _winks_ ) and starts running again.

                He wasn't expecting this kind of behaviour and it's knocked his feet out from under him. He _hates_ it. It makes him feel like a creepy old pervert, because Pietro is _twenty-two_ , for fucks sake, and Clint's edging precariously close to his forties and it's _so wrong_ but damn he wants him so bad.

                So yes, Clint hates it, but he's certainly not going to put a stop to it.

**\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

                Pietro lies on the couch with his head on Wanda's lap in the main living room (there are several living rooms for some reason) in the living quarters, pondering his current predicament. He _knows_ Clint has been watching him and he _knows_ that he's been liking what he sees, but all he does is stare.

                "Wanda, how did you and Vision get together in the first place?" Pietro asks. The blush that spreads over his sister's face fills him with dread, and he mutters a quick "never mind" before she starts talking. He does _not_ want to hear anything else about how _wonderful, kind and caring_ Vision is in bed. He already knows far too much on that topic, and any more will surely fry his brain cells and cause him to do something drastic.

                Wait...

                _Yes!_

                If Clint refuses to make a move now, he'll just have to drive him so crazy that he has practically no choice. Instead of just flashing his chest every now and then, he's going to have to step up his game. But how...

**\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

                Clint was entirely unprepared for this development, but he really _should_ have been. He should have guessed that the kid would kick it up a notch. Every _fucking_ day now, Pietro comes out with a new, _horrendously cheesy_ pick up line. He curses the day Tony gave the twins a piece of every single StarkTech product available, because he is pretty sure Pietro's been using them to search for the worst pick up lines in the world.

                _"Are those space pants? Because your ass is out of this world."_

_"I've lost my teddy bear! Can I sleep with you instead?"_

_"That shirt is very becoming on you. If I were on you, I'd be coming too."_

_"You have 206 bones in your body. Want one more?"_

_"I think my allergies are acting up - every time you're around my dick swells up."_

                It's hell. It is. It's Clint's own special kind of hell, because the kid isn't even subtle about it. It would be bad enough if he were doing it in private, but he does it when they're with the rest of the Avengers crew, too. He does it when they're eating dinner together, or when they're training, or when they're having their weekly Wednesday movie night - and damn if Clint didn't choke on air when Pietro pressed his whole body against Clint's back and leant in, his lips brushing the shell of Clint's ear, to whisper "I'm no Fred Flintstone, but I bet I can make your bed rock." Tony had spat his drink out at that one, the spray covering Nat. Nat, of course, had not been happy, and had thrown the controller at his head.

                It's every day, twice or more, and Clint doesn't think his heart will be able to take much more of it. He's constantly on edge, waiting for the next corny line to be whispered in his ear or written into the condensation on his bathroom mirror while he's in the shower, and _how the hell did he get in here anyway?_

                _"Are you a cowboy, 'cause I can see you riding me."_

_"Is it hot in here or is it just you?"_

_"Are your legs tired, because you've been running through my mind all night?"_

                A sense of dread settles in Clint's stomach when he remembers the stupid barbeque/party/movie night Tony has arranged for tomorrow. It's a small thing, the Avengers and their closest friends only, but Clint doesn't _want_ a birthday bash and as it's his birthday, he should have a say in these things, damn it. Pietro's made him intensely paranoid, and he just _knows_ that the kid's going to try something stupid - and damn, he really needs to stop refer to him as a kid when he's wanked to thoughts of him every night for the past two weeks.

                _God_ , he's such a pervert . It's wrong, wrong, _wrong_ , but Clint can't help it. He doubts anyone would be able to resist that smirk and that hair and that _body_. It's not fair. He can practically feel his blood pressure rising, because that man will be the death of him, he swears.

                Birthday or not, Clint is not looking forward to tomorrow.

**\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

                Okay, so maybe it's not as bad as Clint had feared. They're all lounging around the pool, music playing gently, with Steve trying to cook the burgers without cremating them. He's not doing a very good job, but he's trying so hard that no one really has the heart to tell him how unpleasant it is to eat charred bits of meat. It's a good day, really. The sun's shining, but it's not too hot, and it's nice to have everyone together when it's not some kind of end of the world, imminent distinction kind of event. Everyone has their own lives outside fighting bad guys from space or some shit, so it's not often that everyone's together for an extended period of time. Of course, Clint is one of the sorry few who actually doesn't have a life outside fighting bad guys from space, so his permanent residence at the Avengers HQ means that he sees pretty much everyone at some point during the week. Particularly the Maximoff twins. Particularly one specific Maximoff twin.

                Wanda - sweet, innocent, lovely Wanda - is lying with her head on Vision's lap. It's surreal seeing Vision in normal sweats, and it hurts Clint's head so he tries not to look over there too much. Well that, and the fact that Wanda and her new beau can't seem to stop touching each other and it's whole new levels on disturbing. Sam and Rhodey aren't much better, but they're both so far into denial that they don't dare touch each other. Even Steve is mooning over that dude that him and Nat discovered back in DC. Maria and Nat are the closest sane people, so he tries to keep up with their conversation about the pros and cons of using guns in close combat, but he keeps getting distracted by the sight of Pietro _gliding through the water in nothing but a pair of hideous Bermuda shorts._

                It's the only form of torture that Clint has ever enjoyed. The water flows over the toned muscles of his back, dipping between shoulder blades and trailing drown his ridges of his spine. And the curve of his ass -

                Clint coughs a little before standing up. "I need a drink," he tells the girls. "Either of you want something while I'm up?"

                "No, but you can get me a straw for this, thanks," says Natasha, nodding her head towards the vodka and coke sitting next to her.

                Pushing himself off the deck chair, he flees through the open glass doors into the kitchen, desperately trying to pretend that he can't hear Pietro's cry of "Save a straw, suck a dick!"

                He dives into the fridge to look for a can of something fizzy, because if he has any more alcohol it will _not_ end well. He nearly shits his shorts when he turns around and is confronted with the bare, _wet_ chest of none other than Pietro _bloody_ Maximoff. He presses up against him as he reaches into the fridge, effectively trapping Clint between his arm and the fridge door. He leans around him to grab a bottle of water. He watches as a drop of water travels down a loose strand of wet, white hair. It's like it's in slow motion, and Clint wants to laugh at how ridiculous that sounds, but Pietro starts talking and Clint can _feel_ his voice vibrating through his chest.

                "I hope you like the gift I got you. Natasha helped me pick it out. Although, they say it's thought that counts. So, I guess in that sense, we already hooked up. You were great by the way." The last sentence is whispered in his ear, Pietro's hot body pressing Clint's against the cold fridge. Then Pietro steps back, that damn _smirk_ on his face, like he knows what he's doing to Clint. The little shit probably does know and Clint hears him laugh as he leans down to drop a kiss on his nose before he disappears in a flash of blue.

                Clint's still standing in the same spot when Natasha walks in, grumbling in Russian about straws. She takes one look at his face, bright red and mouth hanging wide open, and bursts into laughter.

                "That kid's got you good," she laughs. _Laughs._ As if it's _funny_.

                " _Please_ , Nat. If you care about me even a little bit, _please_ don't call him a kid," Clint chokes out, finally moving his mouth and stumbling towards the counter.

                "Feeling like a creepy old man, huh?" Clint glares at her, refusing to deign that with a response. She whistles under her breath, pushing her hair out of her face and tying it in a messy ponytail. The scar on her stomach is just visible over the edge of her high-waisted bikini shorts. Even he can see that she looks _great_. "Sorry dude, was that a little too close to the mark?"

                "He's twenty-two, Nat. Twenty-two. I can't even remember being twenty-two."

                "Shut the fuck up, Barton. You're not even forty, stop acting like such a baby."

                "But he's _twenty-two_."

                She stomps over to him and smacks him round the head. The sting is enough to pause Clint's impromptu moping session, and lets of a string of curses. "If he doesn't care, which he obviously doesn't, why should you care? Come on Clint, what's the harm?"

                "I'm not just going to fuck him for a bit of fun, Nat."

                "Well, good for you, he actually likes you. Sex isn't all he wants, Clint." She sighs, leaning next to him at the counter. "You should have heard him when we went out to get your present. _He_ _would not stop talking about you_. Not even when Wanda tried to spell his mouth shut. It was quite the thing to watch, you know."

                "He actually - "

                "Yes Clint, you fucking moron. Go for it. Preferably today, please - I have a bet with Maria and I have two hundred bucks resting on you two getting together today."

                "You've been betting on us getting together? Nat!" She does nothing but stare innocently at him until he relents. "Fine," he scowls, "but if I make a move today then I want half of your winnings."

                "Deal," she confirms, and they seal it with a spit shake. "Good doing business with you my friend," she calls over her shoulder as she struts back outside. "I'll send Wonderboy right in."

                And _shit_ , Clint was not expecting that. _Shit_. 'Today' is not the same as 'right this second' and he can't do it so soon, he can't, he's not ready, he -

                A blue flash signals the arrival of his own personal demon and he keeps his eyes tightly closed. Maybe if he can't see it, the whole horrid situation will just disappear. He hears the intake of breath and knows exactly what's coming.

                "Is it just me, or do most guys picture you naked?" He can practically _hear_ that fucking smirk.

                "It's just you!" Tony shouts in from outside.

                "Piss off, Stark," Pietro shoots back. He returns his attention to Clint, who can hear him step forward.

                Clint doesn't really know what makes him do it, but he's suddenly grabbing hold of Pietro's wrist and dragging him out of the kitchen, through one of the living rooms and into the sleeping quarters. He pushes Pietro into his room and down onto the bed, kicking the door shut behind him.

                "You, Maximoff, are going to shut the hell up and fuck me."

**\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

                _Well_ , he hadn't been expecting that to come out of Clint's mouth, and judging by the stunned expression on the other man's face, neither had he. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest that he's practically _vibrating_ with it, so he takes a shaky breath and stands up.

                "You should know that I've... I've never done this before," Pietro explains as he approaches Clint, backing him up against the door. "You'll have to talk me through it."

                He rests his hands on Clint's hips, relishing the way his breath stutters when those hands slide down to cup his ass. He'd been so powerful, so assertive, as he'd all but ordered Pietro to fuck him, but now Pietro has the control. He uses his hold on Clint to turn them around and slowly walk Clint back to the bed. Every step pushes his ass cheeks tighter against Pietro's hands, and Pietro is really rather impressed by the amount of restraint he shows in not grinding against him. Clint's thighs hit the edge of the bed and he drops down onto it, mirroring their earlier positions. Pietro stays standing, watching hungrily as Clint moves backwards, pushing himself back towards the middle of the bed.

                Pietro can feel the blood pumping around his body and his hands start to shake. He watches as Clint turns onto his hands and knees as he searches through the bedside table, eventually emerging with a small pot of lube. His heart actually stops now, because _holy shit this is Clint Barton offering his ass up to me_ , and Pietro isn't sure if he can handle that. His anxieties are forgotten, however, as Clint presses the pot of lube into his hand, then lies on his back again. For once, Pietro sincerely hopes that Stark is as much of a creep as he's always thought and has had cameras installed in the rooms because _damn_ , he wants to re-watch this every day for the rest of his life. Clint hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts before slowly, _slowly_ , pulling them down, his hips lifting off the bed. He's putting on a show, smirking at him the whole time and Pietro feels his mouth go dry at the sight of Clint's cock springing free from the shorts.

                "Just take it easy, yeah," Clint says, sighing as he strokes his hand over is dick. "It's been a while."

                Pietro drops his own shorts, kicking them to the other side of the room as he walks over to the bed. He drops onto his knees on the soft mattress - _softer than his, anyway, you can tell who Stark likes best_ \- and uses the momentum to fall forward onto his arms, the pot of lube still balancing precariously in one hand. He crawls until he's leaning over Clint's now prone body and kisses the side of his neck.

                "Okay, just - just get a good load of the lube and start with one finger, okay?"

                "I... yeah, yeah okay." He pops open the lid of the pot and scoops up a generous glob of the cold gloop, spreading it over his fingers. He freezes though, and it _sucks_ , because he shouldn't be so nervous about this. People lose their virginities left, right and centre, and he bets that none of them are this scared. "Clint, I..."

                Clint sits up, moving Pietro backwards until he's sitting on his haunches. He cups Pietro's face with one hand and reaches for the lube with the other. "Hey. Hey, it's fine really." He's so understanding and Pietro almost wishes he wasn't because it's _humiliating_ , and he can feel the red flush spreading over his face and neck. He tries to turn his face away but Clint holds his head still and plants a long, lingering kiss on his lips. He rolls them over until he's straddling Pietro's thighs. He dips his fingers into the pot of lube and reaches behind himself. One hand presses against Pietro's chest for balance, and Pietro can feel the heat of his skin like a branding iron. His head drops back with a groan as he realizes what Clint is doing. He strokes himself, thankful for the lube still covering his hand, as Clint reaches back and stretches himself open. He barely lets his hand touch his dick, because no way in _hell_ is he coming before he's even inside that ass.

                Clint pulls Pietro's hand away from his dick and shuffles forward slightly on the bed until his ass is pressed against Pietro's crotch. He dips his hand back into the lube before coating Pietro's cock. Pietro has to bite his lip to stop himself from gasping at the feel of another person's hand on him for the first time, but then he's altogether too busy to focus on that, because Clint is lining his hole up with Pietro's cock and sinking down lower and lower and _holy fucking shit_. Pietro feels like he's about to choke on air as Clint sits down fully, his ass cheeks pressing against Pietro's hips. It's hot and tight and _hot,_ so hot, and he struggles to keep from thrusting up into that tight ass. Clint's head is thrown back, his neck arched and exposed. He's _beautiful_. He grips Pietro's shoulders and uses them for leverage as he sits up slightly, then sinks back down. Pietro groans deep in his throat and his hips thrust upwards slightly, making Clint gasp. He can feel his heart thrumming, his blood pounding, and he wants to slam into the other man as hard and as fast as he can. Realistically, though, that would probably be very uncomfortable for both of them, so he restrains himself.

                Clint shifts slightly and the new angle obviously works for him, as he starts moving faster and faster, taking Pietro in even deeper than before. It's so, _so_ good, but Pietro needs something _more_ , so he pulls out and pushes Clint onto his back. He lines himself up and _slams_ in. Clint practically howls, and for a second Pietro is terrified that he's hurt him, but then Clint is scratching at his shoulders and wrapping his legs around Pietro's waist. They develop a pattern, Pietro slamming into Clint's ass in quick, hard thrusts as Clint grinds his ass against Pietro's cock. Pietro leans down and captures Clint's mouth in an open, gasping kiss. It's so damn good and he doesn't know how much longer he's going to last, so he reaches down between them and wraps his hand around Clint's flushed dick. Their moans are so loud now that they drown out the lewd smacks of their skin slapping together, and the heat is pooling in Pietro's stomach.

                "Fuck, _fuck_ , Pietro, I' m gonna - shit, I'm - I'm so fucking close, come on Pietro, _harder,"_ Clint gasps against Pietro's mouth. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_." He shouts as Pietro rams in particularly hard and squeezes the head of his cock on an upwards stroke, and then there's come pulsing into Pietro's hand and an ass convulsing around his and he throws his head back with a shout as he comes up Clint's ass. He gives a few weak thrusts, then drops onto the bed next to Clint. The other man's arms automatically wrap around his waist, pulling him close. They're both sweaty and sticky and it's kind of gross, but Pietro _really_ doesn't want to move yet, so he tucks his head under Clint's chin and sighs happily. He's just about to fall asleep when a stray thought makes him huff a laugh against Clint's chest?

                "What?"

                "Nothing."

                "Liar."

                Pietro laughs again and pushes himself onto his elbows. "No, it's just that I never would have guessed you'd be such a... _screamer_." He cackles as Clint pushes him away and stands up.

                "Come on kid, we're both sweat and I have your come leaking out of my ass. Let's have a shower and then head back to my birthday celebrations, yeah?" Pietro allows himself to be pulled out of bed and dragged towards the bathroom.

                Maybe it's Clint's birthday, he thinks to himself as he stares at Clint's naked ass, but Pietro is pretty sure he's just received the best present ever. It was a _fabulous_ way to lose his virginity, if he may say so himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I had lots of little munchkins asking for a top!pietro fic after my last Hawksilver fic, Slow Burning Heat - http://archiveofourown.org/works/3962728 - and this was supposed to be uploaded days ago. I procrastinated. A lot. But hey, it's finished now, so woohoo, hurrah, yay. I'm currently working on some looooong fics, but if anyone has any prompts for oneshots etc., come shout at my tumblr - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ourcaptainhomo - and I'll see what I can do.  
> This one is not as good as I wanted it to be, but I give up. I hope ya'll like it anyway. Toodles!


End file.
